Hedonism
by Silent Songbird
Summary: Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, quasi-realistic take on the DxD universe.
1. The Beginning

**Hedonism.**

**Summary: **Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, realistic take on the DxD verse.

* * *

**|-|Hedonism|-|**

* * *

Father and mother argued at dinner again. Father's nostrils flared like the angry bulls she was used to seeing on Saturday morning cartoons. His face went purple, and she could see the lines on the side of his head that went bigger and smaller whenever he entered this state. _Veins_, were what they were called, as her friend told her. His fists slammed unto the table, rattling the dishes and silver cutleries. Her fork fell unto the floor, and she ducked her head low to pick it up just as his bellows shook the walls.

The silverware was comfortable in her hand, though she would have preferred chopsticks. Her friend used chopsticks, and most everyone else she knew used chopsticks, but her family was different. Her reflection in the mirror reminded her of the difference, her light-brown hair and purple eyes reminded her constantly of the difference. _Purple, like father's face…_

"How many times dear? How many times?"

"There's no harm in it." Mother rebutted. "They're just kids dear. He's just a boy."

"That _boy_," Father spat out the word. "He –"

"He's _what?_"

"You know what he is."

"Those were just rumors. The police investigated and never found anything concrete."

"That just makes me even more worried. If he can hide the evidence at his age, what will he be capable of doing five, ten years from now?" He shook his head. "I don't want my daughter anywhere near him."

"Touji, I think you're being unreasonable."

"Irina."

She rose from under the table. Her silverware in hand. Slowly, she picked into her green peas. "Yes, tou-san?"

"I don't want you going over to the Hyoudou boy's house anymore."

"He's my friend."

"Play with your other friends Irina."

"I don't have other friends. The girls call me a boy and make fun of me. The boys don't want to play with me because I'm a girl and girls are gross."

Father's face churned like he'd eaten something bitter. "Irina…"

"You hear her, Touji? Can you hear your daughter? Do you want to take away the only friend she has just because he's a bit… rough around the edges?"

Father's shoulders slumped. "I… I don't dear. It's just… that boy… there's something that just feels… _wrong_ about him."

"That's just your paternal instincts talking dear," Mother kissed father on the cheek. "I know you want to keep our little girl safe and innocent, so boys must be the enemy."

Father muttered something and she knew the argument was done. Dinner proceeded with light chatter about school and work, although the details of father's work were never openly mentioned. She knew he worked with the Church. They went to services frequently, and she was proficient in the knowledge of her verses and bible. She knew the ten commandments by heart, the story of creation, and all the wonders of God that existed within his holy book. Her father never explained how he got money from the church, but she knew it could not be from offerings and tithes. That was God's money. Angels would come down and take the money to God, and he would in turn bless those who gave generously.

Her friend said it was all a big scam, and the money went into the pockets of the church.

She wanted to ask her father, but she was afraid. What if God got angry at her? God could smite her for those thoughts. He could punish her father too, if she were not careful. So, she chose to keep those thoughts to herself.

"Irina, it's getting late. Get ready for bed."

"Yes, kaa-san."

She made sure to brush her teeth, from top to bottom, diligently for thirty minutes. Flossing afterwards, to make sure they were clean. She stared at the bathroom's mirror, smiling wide. They were white. _But not as white as his_. He had the whitest pair of teeth. They were shiny. So shiny, that she was dazzled every time he smiled. Something unsettled her stomach every time he smiled. Her chest felt odd every time he smiled.

"Now, Irina-chan," Father was calmer now, smiling as he brought his book with him. "Where did we stop?"

"The man with the donkey… umm… Baala?"

"Ah, Balaam." Father nodded. "I remember."

He tucked her into bed, and sat on the edge. With a flick, the nightlight came on, and he opened the bible, sitting, and clearing his throat.

"So, Balaam got up in the morning, saddled his donkey and went with the Moabite God was very angry when he went, and the angel of the Lord stood in the road to oppose him. Balaam was riding on his donkey, and his two servants were with him. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with a drawn sword in his hand, it turned off the road into a field. Balaam beat it to get it back on the road."

She listened, attentively, and with as much excitement as she could. "Animals can see angels?"

Father nodded. "Yes Irina-chan. Animals can always tell when the angels are nearby. But we humans, well, some of us aren't so gifted Irina. So, remember, if a dog or cat seems excited or afraid of something that you can't see, it means an angel might be nearby. And if that happens, what should you do?"

"Recite my verses?"

"Exactly Irina-chan. Recite your verses, so the angel will know you are one of the Lord's children."

Father lightly touched her head. "Now, where was I?"

"Then the angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path through the vineyards, with walls on both sides. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it pressed close to the wall, crushing Balaam's foot against it. So he beat the donkey again."

"Poor donkey."

Father smiled.

"Then the angel of the Lord moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left. When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it lay down under Balaam, and he was angry and beat it with his staff."

"Not again!"

"Ah, butwait for it Irina-chan." Father said, continuing the scriptures. "Then the Lord opened the donkey's mouth, and it said to Balaam, "What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?"

"The donkey spoke?"

Father nodded. "The donkey spoke. All things are possible with God Irina-chan."

"So, Balaam answered the donkey, "You have made a fool of me! If only I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now." And the donkey said to Balaam, "Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?"

""No," Balam said. Then the Lord opened Balaam's eyes, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown. The angel of the Lord asked him, "Why have you beaten your donkey these three times? I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me. The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If it had not turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared it.""

"The angel would have killed Balaam?"

"Yes dear," her father said. "Remember, angels are our guardians as long as we are the lord's children and do his will. But they do not protect us if we are not his children. That is why we must never stray from the Lord's Will. Do you understand Irina-chan? Do you understand why it is wrong to disobey God?"

"I – I do, tou-san."

"You'll never do anything against God's will, would you Irina-chan?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, tou-san. Never."

Father's shoulders seemed to be less stiff after she told him that. He was happy, and she liked it when father was happy. He leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead, before closing the bible and rising from the bed.

"Goodnight, Irina-chan."

"Goodnight, Tou-san."

The nightlight clicked off. The door closed shut, and she tucked herself deeper still into the bed. Father would not sleep this night. She was certain of it. The living room blared noise from the TV news station for two hours. Fifteen minutes after that, the TV went quiet. The door to her room opened, silently, as someone, most likely mother, checked up on her to make sure she was asleep. The light from the corridor would peak in for about ten seconds, and vanish as the door would squeeze shut and click.

Father and Mother would talk again, about something. They never agreed on what it was, but she knew it was something that had to do with the church. The argument would last shortly, and then –

She threw off her covers, moving to the window, and staring down. Father emerged from the house, clad in weird priest robes. The family sword that lay in the living room lay strung across his back, and ever silently like a cat, he would make his way off into the night.

As silently as she could, she opened her own window. Shuddering from the blast of cold night breeze, she clambered out, delicately, as softly as she could manage. Tip-toeing across the ledges with as much balance as she could, she made her way over to the tree. Climbing the tree, she furthered herself until she reached the roof of the next building. The roof of the next house.

Her chest sung upon seeing him there. Sitting on the roof, in a hoodie and pair of shorts, his eyes turned to the sky. Dark brown locks of hair, a familiar rolled parchment in his hand, she approached him, shuddering from the cold, and took a place beside him.

Without a word, he reached to his left, grabbing a large, oversized blanket. Without a word, he dragged her closer to him, tossing the blanket over both of them, as the warmth of his legs touched the frigidness of hers, and sent shivers racing through them. He brought her even closer, closer still until their bodies were pressed against each other, as her body siphoned off his warmth and her nostrils drew in his scent. There was that particular scent he had with him, the scent of the thing idly resting in between his index and middle finger.

"How did you know I'd come?"

"I didn't."

"You brought the blanket this time."

"Don't want you to freeze again."

She watched him put the object into his mouth. With a drag, smoke exhaled through his nostrils, and she felt him relax, softly. Without a word, he gestured the object to her, slowly. She hesitated at it.

"I..."

He didn't pressure her. With a light shrug of his shoulders, he put it back to his lips, took a soft drag, and exhaled more smoke.

"My father says smoking is bad."

"It's cannabis sativa."

"It's bad."

"Smoking cigarettes is bad."

"Isn't that what you're doing."

"No." he said. "This is cannabis."

She scrunched up her nose. "What's the difference?"

"Cigarettes contain nicotine. Nicotine is addictive and the pleasure gained from each cigarette smoked is marginally little compared to the cost paid. The main psychoactive part of cannabis is tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC. The pleasure-to-cost ratio of THC is lower, with reduced risks of dependence and addiction."

She didn't understand what he was talking about. "You're using big words again."

"Sorry," he said. "Cigarettes are bad. Cannabis is better."

"Better, not good?"

"Everything has a side-effect; a negative."

"What about eating?" She asked. "Eating is good. There's no negative."

He took another drag, exhaling more smoke from his nostrils. "People with allergies." He rose a finger. "People with ulcers." He rose a second finger. "Anorexics." He rose a third finger. "Weight gain." A fourth finger. "And poop." The fifth finger.

Brown eyes landed, and searched her. "Do you like to poop?"

Heat rushed to her face. "Y-you can't just ask something like that."

"Does sitting on the toilet and clenching your butt give you pleasure?"

"Ew!" she laughed. "That's gross."

"Should I call you Miss-Poopy-Pleasure-Face from now on?"

"You wouldn't."

"You're right," he acquiesced. "Too many syllables."

She shook her head, and punched him lightly in the ribs. "I hate you."

"A lot of people do."

She wished he was joking. Wished he was exaggerating. Though she knew better than most. The way most kids in the neighborhood would stop playing and leave whenever he appeared. The way some adults would whisper and talk about all sorts of naughty things about him whenever he was not present, but would immediately sound happy and pleased to see him once he was nearby.

"Why?"

"Because I don't care." His gaze was far-away. His eyes were half-lidded, and, she could see it, slowly forming, the ghosts of a smile on his face. "I do what will bring me the most pleasure, that is all."

His arm wrapped around her waist, and drew her closer. Her chest was loud. So loud. His eyes were deep. So deep. They were getting closer. Closer. She froze. She could hear father's voice. _"You'll never do anything against God's will, would you Irina-chan?"_

She knew little about it. This action. The sensation of someone's lips touching hers. All she knew, was that it was something reserved for married couples. Father and mother did it all the time. She saw them, all the time. She did not understand the significance, or the meaning. She did not know why his lips were so warm. Inviting. There was heat. There were sparks. Her eyes closed and she could not open them. She could almost see the angels, her guardian angels, up above, shaking their head, lamenting. She was Balaam, blind to their presence, choosing willfully to ignore the warnings of her mount and charge towards their blade.

His lips left hers, slowly, _painstakingly._ Her mind was torn. She knew this was a temptation. A test. A trial. Yet, if it was a trial by god meant to test her faith, she knew, the second she leaned to lock her lips with his, that she had failed.

Their lips departed a second time, and she found it harder and harder to catch her breath. There were feelings she could not understand. Emotions she could not comprehend. His eyes were alight, and there was something, _drawing_ her to them.

"Not yet."

His words snapped her from her trance. She stared, confused. "W-what?"

"I do what will bring me the most pleasure," he said, shrugging as he rose. "Right now, we're not ready. _You_ are not ready."

"I – I don't understand –"

"What do you know about sex?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Um… it's when a man and woman lie together… and a baby is born?"

"Do you know how the baby is made?"

"I just said it is when a man and woman lie together –"

"So, you don't."

She found herself getting angry. "I'm not stupid. I know what sex is."

He smiled at her. His smile that only made her angrier. "Stop it! I hate it when you do that."

"Irina-chan –"

"I hate it! I hate it!"

He was always doing that. Always looking at her like that. Always using words that were too big to understand, always talking about things and ideas she couldn't wrap her head around. _It hurts you know_. They were supposed to be friends. He was supposed to be _her_ friend.

"It's not fair." She said. "Why… why are you so smart? How do you know so much?" _Why can't I ever understand you?_

"I do what will bring me the most pleasure, Irina-chan and no one has ever found pleasure in being dumb, naïve or ignorant. If I don't even _know_ what will bring me the most pleasure… how can I do it? How can I pursue pleasure if I don't even know how many different pleasures there are to pursue?"

"Why?" _Why do you want to pursue pleasure so much?_

He didn't say anything. He never said anything, no matter how many times she asked him that question. This time, he did not look at her, with those eyes, he did not look at her at all. He grabbed the blanket, folded it properly four times, and tucked it underneath his armpit.

"You should get back home Irina-chan. Your dad will be back soon."

There were words she wanted to say. Questions she wanted to ask. Things she wanted to add. She didn't. She didn't, because she assumed, there would be another time to say things, another time to ask things, and another time for things to be finished. For things to be added.

Getting home and crawling underneath the covers, her fingers idly touched her lips, her mind replaying and remembering the sensation of his lips on hers, over and over again. She slept, dreaming of him, of his lips, of his smile, and of a donkey, watching them both, while an angel of the Lord sharpened his blade, tasked to watch if the sinners were worthy of mercy, or if he would bring down his sword, and forever deprive them of salvation.


	2. Schadenfreude

**Hedonism.**

**n. **the ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life.

**Summary: **Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, realistic take on the DxD verse.

* * *

|**Hedonism|**

* * *

Ishimura Tanami disliked complicated situations. She disliked complicated people even more. Being a recently employed twenty-five-year-old teacher at a Middle School meant accepting that she would be around hormone-riddled boys all day, many of which would no doubt attempt to ignore shooting for the moon and stars and instead aim for the next galaxy, and approach her with romantic or sexual ideas in mind.

That said, she had not anticipated it to happen on her very first day, mere minutes after her first class, and in a manner so blatantly overt.

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you Hyoudou-san."

The boy, to her surprise, did not back down when she increased the sternness of her voice. He did not cower, cringe, or instinctively take a step backwards. He seemed to lack any of the accompanying awkwardness of a boy of thirteen years old, and she could understand, immediately, why he was the Class Representative.

"Are you open to the idea of a sexual relationship with a student?"

He repeated the question, without so much as a difference in tone, without so much as an eyelash batting out of place. "That is a _highly_ inappropriate question Hyoudou-san."

"A yes or no will suffice as an answer, rather than a comment on the appropriateness."

"_No_," she said firmly. "And I will be punishing – excuse me where are you going?"

He had turned to leave the second she had said no. Two half-lidded eyes turned to stare at her, and she found herself unnerved by them. "Is there something you needed from me, Ishimura-sensei?"

"I was not done talking, _Hyoudou-san_."

"The matter is simple, Ishimura-sensei. I understand that it is a breach of ethics to abuse your title of a teacher to have sexual relations with your students. I understand equally that the risks you take are higher, with the chances of losing your job and position in the society. Evaluating the cost-reward benefit, there are few incentives for you to have a sexual relationship with a student. Yet, knowing all this, I asked, because often times the forbidden pleasure derived from engaging in illicit activities mentally outweighs the potential consequences of getting caught."

He opened both his palms, talking frankly. "Calculating your relative age and taking into account the lack of a ring and absence of any committed relationships for the past half-decade, I assumed the possibility of you being open to sexual relationship was not zero. As you have rejected my offer, then there is no need to continue the conversation further. Ishimura-sensei, I will treat you with the appropriate respect and decorum of a teacher, and you in turn will treat me as a student."

She found herself unsure of what to say. The boy was already turning around and leaving before her brain managed to catch up with the extremely confusing, _conflicting_ nature of the person and the request.

"Wait –"

"Yes, Ishimura-sensei?"

"How – how did you know I've not been in any committed relationships? This is my first day here."

"Your social media profile has read 'single' for the last five years, which was when it read 'it's complicated' and prior to that 'in a relationship.'"

"You went through my –"

"Ishimura-sensei, this is the twenty-first century. If there are things you want to remain private, please do not post it online."

With a polite bow, Hyoudou walked out of her classroom. She stood there, for several seconds, trying her best to understand what exactly just happened.

* * *

**|Hedonism|**

* * *

Hyoudou upheld his end of the bargain. He did not harass her in class. He never brought up the request. If anything, he was the _model_ student. He was among the first students to raise his hand and answer a question. He was among the first to turn in his homework and essays.

_Oh, lord, his essays –_

She knew it was bad when she found herself consulting a thesaurus and dictionary in order to mark his essays. Words were casually used in methods she never knew they could be used. Ideas and concepts that were too high-level for a Middle-School student littered every single thing he wrote. The boy was unfiltered in his thought processes, and he laid them out as they were, and reading over his works brought her a foreign satisfaction, as if she were reading the personal notes and journals of high-thinking philosophers.

The other teachers had nothing but praise for him, all except the P.E. teacher, who loathed the boy's refusal to join the Track Club.

"He's a natural," Tanaka said, complaining to her one day. "That damned Hyoudou – if he joined the team, I know we can beat out all the other schools at any competition, hands down. He could reach national level – give him a couple of years and he'd be outrunning those blasted Kenyans at the Olympics."

"So, why hasn't he joined?"

"Some nonsense about it not giving him pleasure." Tanaka said, scoffing. "Damn brat says everything he does either has to bring him pleasure, or have the end-goal of giving him pleasure, otherwise it's pointless."

She recognized that thought pattern. It seemed to be the underlying philosophy implanted into his essays. Hyoudou Issei was a hedonist, yet, he was unlike any hedonist that she knew. Upon enduring another one of Tanaka's rants about Hyoudou Issei wasting his potential, she found herself meeting the boy, and asking him out of curiosity, as to why he was so hardworking.

"Why wouldn't I be?" came his answer.

"Hard work and pleasure are opposites, aren't they?"

"Only someone who has never worked hard would think that." Hyoudou said. "Do you know what endorphins are?"

"I did graduate university Hyoudou-san, but humor me."

"I mean no disrespect Ishimura-sensei. You are most likely aware that endorphins are natural chemicals in the body that fight pain. Typically, they are released when a person gets hurt, but can also be released during exercise, laughter or sex."

His eyes locked on her at that. "In addition to blocking pain, endorphins stimulate the release of dopamine – the hormone which makes people happy. Thus, by working hard I am, in fact, attaining pleasure."

It was a surprisingly, round-about argument that she found difficult to poke hole in. It seemed so simple, yet, it sounded hard to believe. "Hard work… is pleasure?"

"You have had sex, haven't you, Ishimura-sensei?"

"Hyoudou –" she growled.

"Humor me sensei, I'm going somewhere with this, and it is not inappropriate."

She hesitated. Begrudgingly, she responded. "Yes. I have."

"Would you classify sex as pleasure or hard work?"

"Pleasure."

"Wrong. It's both." He said. "Women burn about sixty-nine calories per twenty-five-minute session, while men burn a hundred on average. And these are average statistics. The harder both parties work, the more pleasure both parties attain, and the more likely it is for these numbers to go up. So, if sex, the epitome of what most consider pleasure, requires hard-work, how can pleasure and hard-work be opposites?"

The thirteen-year-old boy had left her to her thoughts, left her redefining her own views of what she considered to be work and pleasure. The lines seemed to blur, and she was aware that there had to be some flaws or holes in his logic that she was not seeing, but as she could not see them, she could not repudiate them.

The paradoxical, oxymoronic nature of Hyoudou was something amazing and inexplicable to behold. He was hardworking, perhaps even more so than any other student she had seen. His grades were at the level in which she wondered why he had not yet been moved up several classes. He was polite, firm, charismatic and athletic.

Naturally, this did not go unnoticed. His popularity amongst the school was something that was not in question. Girls his age seemed to whisper, fawn and giggle as the boy passed halls, and there were several different ones constantly asking him for tutoring sessions. And tutor them, he did.

That drew even more questions. All he did was tutor them. She knew, from the whispered complaints of the girls who had 'tried to make a move' only for them to be rebuffed, time and again, by Hyoudou, as he focused purely on his task of teaching them schoolwork and nothing further. Eventually, he stopped tutoring the females all together, which was something she could not fathom or understand given the boy's self-proclaimed path of hedonism and desire for pleasure.

A part of her would claim, that the only reason she was interested was because she wanted to be sure that Hyoudou was not hung up on her, or still interested in her in one way or form. This was the excuse she used, the mantra she told herself, as she found herself, one winter afternoon, sitting in the now fourteen-year old's classroom, and having a talk almost similar to the one they had a year ago, when she was just a new teacher. The topic was an awkward one to approach, and she was not sure how she would go about tackling it, but then she forgot who she was dealing with, and how utterly frank he was when it came to such matters.

"You're curious as to why I have turned down all the girls who approached me."

"I wouldn't say _curious_ –"

"It has nothing to do with you, in case you were wondering."

"I see."

"You sound disappointed."

"Not this again Hyoudou."

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "If you must know, I turned them down because the cost-reward was negative."

"Cost-reward?"

"Addition and subtraction. Everything I do has to bring me some pleasure, but when it comes to certain things, there's a cost for that pleasure, which I calculate to see if the cost is worth the immediate reward. If the cost is too high, I disregard my pursuit of that pleasure and select another." He explained.

"How do you calculate if the cost is worth the pleasure?"

"Say for instance, smoking. The short-term pleasure of a cigarette is not worth the long-term cost of potential lung-cancer, which will deprive me of a significant amount of future pleasure, so the formula for calculating the Cost would be Immediate Pleasure minus Potential Lost Pleasure."

Reaching for a piece of chalk, Hyoudou approached the board and wrote out what seemed to be a formula. **C = IP – PLP**.

"If the Immediate Pleasure of a cigarette is given a value of 1, and the Potential Lost Pleasure of having lung-disease or lung cancer is given a value of -10, the cost would equal -9, which would make it a negative, and thus, an activity not worth partaking in."

"There is also Recurrent Pleasure, in which an activity's pleasure increases the more frequently it occurs, but eventually reaches a point of diminishing returns, and there's also a formula for calculating –"

"Hyoudou-san." She interrupted, shaking her head. "Amusing as this all is… I believe you were going somewhere?"

"Ah, yes." He blinked. "Basically, the immediate pleasure I would gain from sleeping with them is not worth the potential lost pleasure from the loss of reputation once they realize all I want from them is sex."

"All you want from them is sex?" she found her brows furrowing.

"I'm fine with an open relationship." Hyoudou explained. "They on the other hand, want exclusivity. They want a knight in shining armor to focus on them and only them, and want all the traditional trappings of typical monogamous romance."

"And you… don't?"

"The potential lost pleasure of being monogamous is far higher the immediate or recurrent pleasure."

"I don't believe that Hyoudou-san. I see more benefits to it."

The boy stared at her for several seconds, and then he took a deep breath. "Ishimura-sensei, you have friends yes?"

"Of course."

"Now, among your friends, some have traits that others do not, yes? Some are book-smart, some are athletic, some have a higher alcohol tolerance, etcetera."

"I do not see where you are going with this, Hyoudou-san."

"Amongst all the friends you have, I want you to rank them by whose traits you like the most."

"Why would I –"

"Once you've ranked them by the person whose traits you like the most, I want you to keep that person as your only friend, and disregard all others. Cut off contact with them. Do not talk to them ever again, and do not even hang out with them, because if you do, the one that you've kept as your only friend will be hurt, angry, and jealous that you're spending time with other people."

She knew what he was doing. It was not hard to see the parallels. Yet, despite seeing the parallels, it was hard to give in so easily. "That's different, Hyoudou-san. Relationships include commitment. Commitment, openness and… and love. You can't love more than one person. You can't _be_ one-hundred percent invested in more than one person."

"Forgive me if I say this, sensei, but I sorely hope in the future, you intend to have only one child."

She grimaced. "Parental love isn't the same as –"

"Is it weaker or stronger?"

"Hyoudou –"

"Is parental love weaker, or stronger than romantic love?"

"You can't put them on a scale and determine which is weaker or stronger."

"Roughly equal then. So if a parent can love more than one child, be a hundred percent invested in more than one child, you expect me to believe one person cannot love more than one person?"

She didn't have anything else to refute him with. The classroom was left silent for several minutes, the sound of the bell putting the final nail in their conversation. Hyoudou bowed, as politely as ever, and without any other words, the fourteen-year old boy marched out of her office, leaving her alone with confusing, conflicting thoughts.

_Why can't I outwit the logic of a fourteen-year-old kid?_

She knew she was right. Monogamy was the standard of the world and most of the developing countries therein, and there had to be a reason this was chosen as the best method. The concept of having two or more wives or two or more husbands were relics from a bygone era, though it irked her that although she knew this, she did not know _why._

_And now I have research to do… damn it._

Yet, she could not help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Hyoudou did not feel like a child in the manner he brought forth his unorthodox, frankly scandalous ideas and theories. He was brazenly unapologetic for the most part about his beliefs, and she was kept at a loss for words as to how or why the _pursuit of pleasure_ had formed someone like him.

"Ishimura-sensei," the boy's head peeped back into the classroom. "Seeing as I will be graduating middle-school next year, may I have your old high school and college textbooks?"

Her old textbooks? "If it were anyone else I would have hesitated," she said, before acquiescing. "Fine. I trust you to put them to good use."

"Thank you, Ishimura-sensei. When should I come by to pick them up?"

"Saturday."

"Morning, afternoon, or evening?"

"I have some tutoring to do in the afternoon, and I tend to sleep in on Saturdays…"

"Evening it is."

The boy's head vanished from the class, and she stretched a bit and yawned. Some of her old college books had gathered a fair bit of dust, which she was admittedly embarrassed about. She would need to clean them properly, and also mention her place was spotless for when Hyoudou came over –

She jerked upright immediately. _Hyoudou, is coming over to my place?_ Mr _never-do-anything-unless-I-get-pleasure-from-it_ himself was coming over to her place? She _invited_ him over? _What was I thinking?_ The same student, who on her first day, openly asked her if she was interested in a sexual relationship?

_This is fine, Ishimura. He's just coming over to collect some books, nothing else._

That's right – that was right. She was the one overthinking the situation. Nothing would happen. She was an adult, and she knew where boundary lines were. Not to mention, Hyoudou himself had given her his word to treat her like his teacher and nothing else.

Nothing would happen.

Nothing was going to happen.

* * *

**|Hedonism|**

* * *

Nothing happened.

"Thank you, Ishimura-sensei."

She spent hours, fretting and thinking, cleaning and dusting, and had ruined her plan of sleeping in on Saturday with a particularly distressing dream that brought her no small bit of shame and turmoil. Her tutoring session had been all but a bust as she kept spacing out, overthinking and questioning why it was that she had chosen to allow Hyoudou come to her house. She convinced herself that she never told Hyoudou where she lived, thus he would never be able to find her house, but then forgot that her address was available on her social media.

She was really starting to hate social media.

Saturday evening had come, and the boy had as well. His hair was neatly combed, and she examined him outside of his school uniform. The constant running he did had given him a good, agreeable physique, which all but meshed well with his personality in a way that was brutally unfair.

While she had been stumbling over her words and overthinking the situation, Hyoudou had picked up the books he came for, thanked her for them, and left.

He left.

Not a single sexual remark was made. Not a single inappropriate question or suggestion was hinted at. True to his words, he had treated her with the respect a student gave to their teacher, and did nothing else.

_This is fine right…? So why…?_

She should have been fine with it. She should have been utterly relieved at it. So why, why did a small, quiet part of her, sting and burn with resentment? Why did an even smaller part of her, feel heavy with disappointment?

"Ishimura-sensei," a knock came on her door.

She would deny, fervently, that she rushed for the door and almost stumbled in her steps doing so. She swung it open, finding Hyoudou present, familiar book in hand. "You seemed to have mixed up your lesson notes with your college notebooks."

"I… had?" She collected it. There was no mistaking it as her lesson notes.

"I decided it was best to return it now rather than on Monday, as you may need them to prepare for class."

"Thank you, Hyoudou – yes, it would have been chaos if I searched for them everywhere without knowing if I –" she was rambling. She knew she was rambling. Hyoudou stood at the door, eyes half-lidded. "Well, then, Ishimura-sensei, I'll be taking my leave."

For the second time, he turned around, and Ishimura Tanami bit her lip. "Hyoudou… would… would… you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

"It's rather late, Ishimura-sensei."

"Of course, right, it is. I – what am I thinking."

The boy in front of her shook his head, before sighing. "Ishimura-sensei, you need to be more honest with your desires."

"I don't know what you're talking about Hyoudou."

"Very well," he said. "I gave you my word to give you the respect of my teacher, and I don't intend on going back on it. Goodnight, Ishimura-sensei."

He turned around, _again_, and she cursed herself. "W-wait –"

"Yes?"

"You – you're not going to make this easy for me… aren't you?"

"Is there something you want, Ishimura-sensei?"

She bit her lip. "You." She said. "I want… you."

"I'm flattered, Ishimura-sensei. But I do not want you."

The words had the effect of a bucket of ice water, splashing over her head. "I – I don't understand –"

For the first time, Hyoudou's eyes were glowing with a light she had never seen. For the first time, there was an expression on his face she could not comprehend. A sneer? No, not a sneer – derision – _amusement_.

"I do the thing that brings me the most pleasure, Ishimura-sensei. And the pleasure I would get from sleeping with you, is nowhere near the pleasure I have right now, from watching you realize that you missed your chance. That ship has sailed, Ishimura-sensei. I asked you, once, if you were open to a sexual relationship with your student. You refused. And forgive me, but I have too much pride to eagerly come lapping at your heels once you change your mind."

Her legs wobbled, as she took an uncomfortable step back, and saw it. The look on Hyoudou's face. A twisted, sadistic look. "I do what brings me the most pleasure, Ishimura-sensei and right now, schadenfreude is in season."

He gave a formal, polite bow. "Goodnight, Ishimura-sensei."

And with those words, Hyoudou was gone.


	3. Acceptance

**Hedonism.**

**n. **the ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life.

**Summary: **Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, quasi-realistic take on the DxD verse.

* * *

|**Hedonism|**

* * *

"The list is short," he assured them.

Ginzo made a sound that was between a snort and a grunt. The barber tied his apron properly, opening his kit and drawing from it a pair of silver scissors, and placing it on the table.

"I'm sorry, Hyoudou-kun," Kin Han Soo laughed, trimming the side-edges of a small boy whose eyes had closed in bliss. "We love you, but you're the pickiest person we know."

"Am I?"

"'Fifteen cuts to three inches to the right side, fourteen and a half to the left, four snips off the top, but never in the center. No fades or half-styles, no blades that have not been prior sharpened nor blades that have been used more than nine times in one week, no hairspray, hair gel, relaxers or conditioners, and never, ever, do work while feeling at anything less than your absolute best.'"

"All solid advice." The boy said. "There is a difference, between pickiness and meticulousness."

"The spelling?" Ginzo wagered.

"The affordability."

Kin Han Soo giggled like a K-Pop star, one hand casually covering his mouth. The effeminate Korean glided his fingers across the hair of his client, snipping away with diligence while coyly eyeing his partner. Ginzo washed and dried his hands with paper towels, before picking up his scissors once more.

"Most middle school students aren't able to afford a twelve-thousand-yen haircut."

"High School."

"You don't start till April." Ginzo said. "Already eager to break hearts?"

"Tell me, Ginzo-san, do I look like that sort of individual?"

The boy in question was taller than most his age. Smarter. Too smart. It unnerved Ginzo. Such sharp eyes placed upon a face that certainly several mothers could love, each one more unnerved by that realization than the last. His brown hair was smooth. Silky. Soft. Each strand was alive. Every tilt of his head brought Ginzo closer to feeling he was watching the star of a shampoo commercial. Considering he had, once, done the hair for such an individual, it was a rare feat.

"Of course you don't," Ginzo found himself saying, if only to regain his focus. "You look more like someone who'd break hearts by accident, and not even realize he's doing it."

"Gin-chan, Gin-chan," Kin Han Soo wagged his index finger back and forth. "Our little Hyoudou-kun is growing up all too fast. We have to remember that and support him – especially when he doesn't realize he needs it."

The boy sighed, chin landing smoothly into waiting hand. "You're talking about my list, aren't you?"

Kin Han Soo nodded, vehemently. Ginzo scratched his head at the scene, watching his partner once more wag his finger up and down as if talking to a student. "Hyoudou-kun, that list is atrocious."

"Everyone has preferences Kin-san."

"Preferences usually aren't several paragraphs long Hyoudou-kun!"

"Then I suppose the fault lays with their lack of foresight."

There was, of course, nothing wrong with his list, Hyoudou Issei believed. A rather short list of things he liked and disliked about women.

He liked short skirts, long hair, chokers and earrings. He disliked bracelets, amulets, rings and wristwatches. He was open to anklets, piercings, stockings and tattoos in moderation. He was not keen on nose-rings, heavy makeup, fixed nails and overwhelming parfum.

There was joy in half stockings, fishnets, school skirts, and ponytails. Pigtails, leather skirts, short-shorts and spring gowns. Unusual colored eyes, unusual colored hair, toned stomachs and thin waistlines.

There was disdain in long gowns, trousers, jeans and jackets. Skinny bodies, pale complexions, tans without lines and body fat. Gangster-walking, spitting, excessive swearing, and machismo.

He was enamored with the effervescent, gawsy, philanthropic and ambitious. The eager-hearted, open-minded, purpose-driven and complex. He disdained the prude, pedantic, pusillanimous and passive.

The entitled, conceited, intransigent and unintelligent.

The self-righteous, slothful, vainglorious, and vapid.

"On the topic of preferences and foresight," Hyoudou said. "You both have been in Kuoh for a long time now, haven't you?"

"Native," Ginzo identified. "Though I left for a while."

"It's been six years since I moved here from Seoul." Kin Han Soo said.

"Have either of you noticed anything particularly odd about the town?"

"Well," Kin began, "There is this rather odd fourteen-year-old boy who insists on doing only things that give him pleasure…"

"Hilarious," intoned Issei. "I can see that you left Seoul to pursue your god-bestowed gift of comedy."

Ginzo snorted. "You have to be more specific about how _odd_ things are." The Barber pointed to a woman in the back. "Ying Yue Wang recently moved here from Changsha. I suppose you could consider it odd that a single Barbershop has a Japanese, Korean, and Chinese all working without problem."

"Not without problem!" The woman called in slightly broken Japanese. "Me want higher pay!"

"You'll get it when you get it Yue!" Ginzo shouted back, before grumbling underneath his breath. "Damn greedy little…"

"I was referring to something more unusual."

Kin and Ginzo exchanged a look, as the Japanese barber dropped his scissors into the sterilizer. "What are you talking about?"

"Kuoh has too many successful businessmen and businesses," said Hyoudou. "Skyscrapers appear every day and no company in the past decade has gone under."

"And that's unusual?" said Ginzo.

Issei tilted his head, his eyes gleaming "Isn't it?"

"Everyone knows that Kuoh is a land flowing with milk and honey." Kin said, clapping his hands. "I wouldn't move all the way here if I wasn't sure I'd get a better life here."

Ginzo frowned. "I thought you moved because of me?"

Kin waved his hand. "Well that too darling, but you know how I am. If the Silky Way hadn't been such a success, you'd have someone else sleeping beside you at night."

"Wonderful," said Gin. "I just might do my business under just so I don't have to wake up with two cucumber slices on the pillow every morning."

"You know I wouldn't mind if you just ate them –"

The brown-haired teen cleared his throat. "I do, truly enjoy listening to unique fetishes, and as unique a fetish as consuming the cosmetic cucumbers of your partner sounds, I'm rather certain that it's highly unusual for a town to be this well-off."

"Well, what possible explanation could you have?" Kin said, placing his hand on his hips. "Don't tell me you believe all those rumors about how people sell their souls to the devil for fame and fortune. What's next? You'll start seeing symbols of the illuminati? The Free Masons? Conspiracism isn't attractive Hyoudou-kun."

"Conspiracism isn't a word," Hyoudou said, "And there _have_ been a rather large number of those rumors as of late."

Kin and Ginzo gave each other a look, before turning back to Hyoudou. "Alright, what's this about?" Ginzo asked.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"We've known you long enough Mr. I-don't-do-anything-unless-it-gives-me-pleasure. What's this about?"

Hyoudou's lips twitched. The boy in question sighed, spun around on his chair and gave them both coy smiles. "I would love to explain, but you might not understand."

Ginzo crossed his arms. "Try us."

"We're not like your schoolmates and teachers Hyoudou-kun," Kin's nose turned up. "I do have an Arts Degree."

"Perhaps after you're done for the day, we can discuss it over a round of drinks at your place." His gaze shot past the duo and landed at the woman in the back. "And bring Ying Yue along too."

"She's our employee, not our slave, Issei. We can't just –"

"_Yue!_" Hyoudou's voice cut across the barbershop. "_N__ǐ__ xi__ǎ__ng gu__ò__l__á__i h__ē__ di__ǎ__n sh__é__nme ma?_"

The Chinese woman stared at the boy. "_Shéi fùku__ǎ__n?_"

Issei pointed to the barbers. "_T__ā__men._"

"_H__ǎ__o de._"

The woman returned to work, and Hyoudou turned to the partners. "She's in."

Ginzo rubbed the side of his head. "Why do you speak Chinese?"

"To solicit Chinese prostitutes and ensure they do not drug me and sell my organs afterwards."

"And you solicit Chinese prostitutes because…?"

"For comparison."

"Comparison?"

"With their Italian, Ghanian, Russian, Brazilian, Puerto Rican, Nigerian, Israeli, Sri Lankan, and Belgian counterparts." The boy said. "Ideally, I would like to know which country possesses the best prostitutes, but I feel the data I have is skewed due to the women I've had access to being brought to Japan via trafficking. They're rarely ever completely willing, eager, and experienced."

"That's unfortunate."

"Indeed," Issei agreed. "I paid money for experiences that did not satisfy me. However, I was able to deliver pleasure to the women and teach them, and they will use those skills to further deliver greater pleasure to others. That's a small consolation."

Perhaps it was always the lackadaisical way he made his declarations, Ginzo thought, that made the boy rather entertaining to watch. Yet, the barber knew, he himself was not exactly one to judge. The years he'd spent in California as a hair stylist for movie stars had inured him to such oddities. No, more than inured, he could claim that it made him fascinated by them.

"We're getting slightly off track," said Kin. "Hyoudou-kun, you're going to tell us exactly what's been going on in your head, and you're not going to leave a single detail out."

"I will," Hyoudou agreed. "I just cannot guarantee you'll be sober enough to remember it."

The challenge was in the air, and Ginzo knew more than anyone else that Kin was, unfortunately, a lightweight. Still, he knew it would be amusing, all things considered, to see if the boy would outdrink the man.

The doors of the Silky Way Barbershop closed at exactly nine pm that evening. The sign was swapped, the lights were off, the receptionist sent home, and four individuals found themselves in a car, driving off to an apartment in the uptown districts of Kuoh City. _It used to be town,_ Ginzo noted. Yet, Kuoh _Town_ could not be apt anymore with how quickly things had changed. His gaze flickered out the window, as his feet pressed on the accelerator and Kin laughed at a joke that Hyoudou told in Korean.

The roads were not as quiet as he remembered. Traffic, a sight which was once almost never to be seen in Kuoh City was becoming more frequent as more people moved in. After all, those skyscrapers were companies and businesses, and those companies and businesses needed manpower to function.

Taking the exit from the highway, Ginzo mused at the latest construction still in progress. A brightly lit billboard with a flickering light held writing in bold and italicized Vladmir Script font: _**La Gremory Hotel – Coming Soon!**_

"Hey, that –" Ginzo's lips pursed.

"You noticed?" Hyoudou spoke up from the backseat. "Of course. You spent time in America."

"The La Gremory? Here?" Kin whistled. "They don't even have one in Tokyo."

Ginzo kept his eyes on the road, ignoring the odd feeling about seeing the billboard. His gaze flickered lightly to the rear-view mirror, keeping the brown-haired teen in his sights, the boy's words playing themselves over in his head. _Skyscrapers appear every day and no company in the past decade has gone under._

He wanted to believe it was because his hometown was just lucky. Good luck, excellent feng shui, a gift from the gods above. At the same time, he was bothered by how unbothered he had been about it. He never felt there was anything off about such statistics. He'd accepted that things were just the way they were. Kuoh City was a great place, and that was that.

He came to a stop at a red light, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. _I'm overthinking stupid things_. He should be thankful to live in such a city, rather than questioning how plausible it was for it to grow and develop so quickly, or how odd it was for no business in the city to have failed. If anything, it just meant that the Silky Way would continue to prosper, and he hadn't made a huge mistake in giving the middle-finger to his old job and returning home to Japan.

His eyes flickered once more to the rear-view mirror, and he cursed underneath his breath at seeing Hyoudou with his tongue down Ying Yue's throat and his hand up her skirt.

"I look away for one _bloody_ second –" he cursed. "Hyoudou! Can you _not_ finger my employee in the backseat of my car? And Ying Yue – do you mind _not_ letting a kid finger you in your boss's car?"

A moan was the response. The Chinese woman cursed something in her language, as she shuddered.

"Oh she did _not_ just –"

"The light's green darling."

He slammed his foot on the pedal, the action jerking the car forward at high speed and jostling the back-seat duo. It was not enough to deter them, of course, because the moans only continued to grow louder, and all he could see from the rearview mirror were two legs in the air, black underwear on one ankle, and Hyoudou's buttocks bare as his hips thrust back and forth.

"Oh, _come on!_"

Ginzo knew Kin was amused with the whole thing. Of course, he was not the one driving, and not the one who's seat was occasionally being jostled.

"You can't tell me you weren't expecting this would happen. Remember Hanako?"

"At least that time he had the decency to _pretend_ like nothing was going on."

"And you pointed it out to him that you definitely knew that she was blowing him while we were driving back from the party." Kin said, wagging his finger. "If you'd played along and pretended not to notice, Hyoudou-kun wouldn't decide there's no point to being subtle."

He gave her a flat stare. "Whose side are you on?"

"The side that – _look out!"_

A second. A split second. That was all it took for his eyes to slam back unto the road. All it took for him to realize the road was not empty. For him to force his hand to the right, swerve to miss the blurry figure crossing the road, and send the car veering.

Half a second followed. His conscious mind barely registered the moment. Hyoudou's arm snapping forward, landing on the wheel, and turning it in the other direction. His second hand blurred, grabbing the handbrakes.

The car screeched to a stop. The smell of burnt rubber was thick. No one moved. No one said anything. Ginzo did not find it in him to speak. The car was parked, facing the direction of the road. The shadowy figure he'd swerved so hard to avoid was absent. Gone.

"If," Hyoudou's voice broke the silence. "If my actions cause so much turmoil that complaining about them nearly costs us our lives, then I suppose I should find different acquaintances."

"That's not fair Hyoudou-kun. Ginzo-san was not complaining –"

"I'm young, Kin, not deaf."

"He doesn't mind your little antics. Although sometimes they tend to be a bit… extreme."

Ginzo did not speak. _Extreme_. That was the word Kin used. The eccentric boy wonder was more than just a little extreme. _Those reflexes… what was that?_ Ginzo did not speak, because he did not know what to say. _The car should have flipped over and crashed. I was sure the car was going to flip over and crash._

Was it luck? Skill? To precisely and accurately prevent a car from flipping over by turning the wheel in the opposite direction and pulling the brakes at a specific time? How would a boy know how to do that? How could he have done that with such confidence?

Ginzo managed to meet Hyoudou's eyes, for a brief second. Brown eyes that sparkled like stars of a different galaxy. Sharp, sparkling eyes. A shudder ran down his spine from seeing the eyes. He'd seen child stars and the expressions of children of the rich and affluent, but never, ever, had he seen a child with eyes like Hyoudou.

"I don't want you having sex in my car anymore."

"I can't guarantee that."

_It was worth a shot._ "I don't want you having _distracting _sex in my car anymore." He said, instead. "At least, make it like that time with Hanako. Subtle enough to ignore."

The boy closed his eyes for several seconds. Slowly, he nodded. "I can accept those terms."

He wondered, at times, why he put up with the boy's antics. Perhaps, originally, it was because the boy was a customer. _The _customer. When the Silky Way opened up and no one was giving it a glance, a young boy had approached, sat down, and asked for a haircut. A young boy who did not balk and run for the hills at the aforementioned price, a young boy who went on to tell his classmates about the place, and whose classmates went on to tell their parents about the place, and whose parents told their co-workers about the place, and with that first customer, that young boy, his business became the gem it was now.

Or perhaps, it was also because the boy had not left upon introducing his partner, unlike several of the Silky Way's customers. There had been no tightness of expression, no faux politeness, no sudden distance upon seeing him with Kin Han Woo. In the boy's eyes, there was nothing different, or odd, or _wrong_ about him because of his choices. He merely glanced once, nodded his head, and then asked if he could get tips for anal sex from an expert.

Ginzo remembered that day. Remembered laughing. Remembered the relief that came from the laughter. Remembered how the tenseness left Kin Han Woo's shoulders from hearing the question. The first person to accept him for a choice his own parents disowned him for, and it was that boy. That odd, intelligent, hedonistic boy.

Ginzo started the ignition, pushing the handbrake down as he let out a sigh. "Can't even see the bloody person I swerved so hard to miss anymore."

"Maybe it was a mirage?" Kin asked.

"In the middle of the night? Not likely."

It didn't matter, he supposed. As long as he was safe, unharmed, and two of his favorite people in the world were equally safe and unharmed, Watanabe Ginzo could care less about a random stranger on the road.

"Let's just get home."

He glanced in the rearview mirror once more. Hyoudou's gaze seemed to stare out the window, paying no more heed to his Chinese paramour who was no doubt no longer in the mood after the near accident. Chin in one hand, expression lost in space, the boy's gaze was faraway, distant, and Ginzo wished, at times, he could glimpse a bit through his mind, and know what he was thinking.

With the soft press of his right leg, the car moved forward, and he turned on the radio to the soft tunes of relaxing low-fi music. All the while, Ginzo could not help but think, question, and wonder, just how little he knew of the young boy called Hyoudou Issei.


	4. Competition

**Hedonism.**

**n. **the ethical theory that pleasure (in the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life.

**Summary: **Hyoudou Issei was not a pervert. He was a hedonist. Most people would glance upon the two titles and believe that they were one and the same. They were wrong. They were very, very wrong. Mature Content Warning. A darker, quasi-realistic take on the DxD verse.

* * *

There was a lot of noise.

"_Hyoudou Issei scored the highest again."_

"_He's going places, that boy."_

"_So diligent, and hardworking too."_

A lot of expectations.

"_He got a full scholarship to Kuoh Academy."_

"_Amazing!"_

"_I heard he wants to become a doctor."_

He did not care, however.

"_You came back late, again Issei-kun. You're making your mother worried."_

"_Issei, we've been lenient about your hobbies, but this – this –"_

"_What is wrong with you Issei? What? How could you – how could my own son –"_

He only ever did what would give him the most pleasure.

"_Get out! GET OUT!"_

He was only ever searching for his own slice of paradise.

"_You disgust me."_

That was all he wanted.

"_I never want to see your face near this house ever again."_

That was all he ever wanted.

* * *

|Hedonism|

* * *

The alarm clock buzzed once at 6:30: AM. A hand latched out and hit the buzzer before the second ring. Two eyes snapped open. With a stretch, he laid out his feet. Rather than touching solid floor, his two legs touched against warm flesh. He reached out, dragging open the covers to the sight of the middle-aged woman naked atop his bed. The memories of the previous night began to flow, slowly, speeding up all at once, and forcing him to flick the woman's forehead.

"Wake up."

An incoherent grumble escaped her lips. He attempted a different approach. Dragging down all the covers, exposing her legs and untrimmed patch of dark pubic hair. His lips went down. His tongue worked his way slowly. Soft grumbles became tiny groans, and tiny groans became tender moans. Tender moans evolved into redundant curses as his tongue gained tempo.

"Oh, oh, oh – fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm awake! I'm awake!"

She pushed him off, shuddering. A drowsy glare lay on her sleep-ridden face. "As much as I'd love to wake up to that every morning, I _really_ wanted to sleep in."

"It's six forty-five." Issei said. The glare on her face became more prominent at that. As always, it was up to him to elaborate. "Monday."

Her eyes widened. "Today is Monday?" She cursed again, this time, not underneath her breath, and not from the pleasure of his ministrations. "Fuck!" She swore, clambering herself out of bed. "Fuck!"

"There's a clean pair of underwear in the black wardrobe. Check the bottom drawers on the right for office skirts matching your size. The top left drawer has shirts. Shower is on the left of the room. Cupboard below the sink has new toothbrushes. Pick one with your color and initials."

She stopped her mid-morning scramble to stare. "What?"

"The first train leaves at seven. Kobayashi-san has the morning shift. He arrives five minutes early on principle." He pointed to an anime-styled magical girl clock hanging on the wall. "Whether you make it on time to work or not depends on how willing you are to spend time asking questions."

She was quick on the uptake, at the very least. Quick enough to leave the room and find her way into the shower. The sound of running water kick-started the race against time. He climbed out of bed himself, taking a deep breath, before dropping flat to the gray-tiled floor of his bedroom, and beginning his daily set.

_One. Two. Three. Four –_

She spent four minutes forty-six seconds in the shower.

_Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four –_

Three minutes drying her hair and applying lotions and cosmetics.

_Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four – _

Three minutes nineteen seconds were spent dressing up.

_Ninety-six. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine –_

"Where are my –"

"Beside the coatrack behind the door."

" – shoes."

_One hundred._

Sweat dripped from his form. He closed his eyes and breathed it in. The exertion from his muscles. The sweat, trailing down his chin unto his chest. His chest burned. His hands shook. A small, pleased smile appeared on his face.

She stood there, in a well-chosen wine-red suit and office skirt. Tight enough to be sexy, but not so much as to be overly provocative and restrictive. She made no attempt to disguise herself eyeing him. "Hot."

"You're welcome."

She laughed. "Shouldn't that be 'thank you?'"

"Does God thank people for admiring his creations?"

"I wouldn't know. Haven't met the fella."

"All through the night you kept calling his name."

She chuckled a bit. He could tell there were questions she wanted to ask. She could not have made it any more obvious with the manner she chuckled, and the long gasp of five-second-silence that followed.

"You can keep the outfit you picked, if that's your concern."

"How often do you… do this sort of thing?"

"You'll have to be more specific."

She gestured to her outfit. "This," she pointed. "This is not… normal. These clothes feel more expensive than the ones I have."

"They are."

"You have a full closet full of different women's clothes and undergarments, in different sizes. Expensive clothes to boot."

"Was there a question somewhere in there?"

She was disturbed. He could see it. She, like most people, had an arbitrary spectrum of acceptability and bizarreness. "Why?" came the question. "Actually, _how_, is more important. You have to be like, eighteen, maybe nineteen? How can you afford a full closet of women's clothes?"

"Do you need money?"

She appeared offended by the question. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Do you need money?" he repeated.

"No – of course I do not need money! I'm just –"

"There's twenty-thousand yen in the cupboard in the kitchen."

She seemed to only be further incensed. "I'm _not_ a hooker!"

"I'm not saying you are."

"Then why are you offering me money?!"

Issei calmly pressed his index and middle finger against the side of his head. There were any number of things he could have said. Any number of options from the truth, which was that she was slightly skinnier than average for a woman of her age and size which meant malnutrition or a tiny diet. Or perhaps that her shoes were clearly frayed and worn from when he'd kept them aside, as the heels were clunky and uneven. He could have likewise mentioned how she smelt of extremely cheap cologne, the kind he saw in discount bins and sniffed for research, and how the fabric of the outfit she'd been wearing had faded in numerous parts, and had more than one patch done to fix the holes in the pockets.

Surely, he could have said any of those things, but that would imply that the sole reason they had this one-night stand was because he realized she was poor, and chose her for a pity-fuck.

The implication was not wrong. He was curious in comparing how women of lower socio-economic class fared in sexual expertise than those of higher income. Aside from that, telling a person that you chose to give them a single night of pleasure because they looked miserable seemed to have a negative effect for some absurd reason.

"You'll be late." He pointed to the clock. "It's 7:00am." He stretched his arms. "I don't care if you take the money or not, but I need you to leave. I'm starting High School today, and don't want to be late."

"High School? Is that supposed to be some sort of –"

Her face went momentarily ashen. She stared at him, again, as if looking at him for the very first time since seeing him.

"How – how old are you?"

"Leave." He pointed to the door. "Now."

There was no room for protest the second time around. The door to his apartment shut, and Issei was left to his silence. _High School_. Anime and manga had romanticized three years of grueling study and hardship in preparation for college entrance exams into a fantastical experience where one did everything from finding true love, to stopping alien invasions and becoming transmigrated to another world as a hero with a cheat power.

Worst of all, he was going to have to meet with people who had somehow bought into this fictitious nonsense. Handling all of them sober was going to be problematic. It was with that knowledge in mind that Hyoudou Issei brushed, flossed, and opened his refrigerator, taking out his breakfast of nice, chilled, chocolate brownies which would take him through the entire day.

Edibles were always better, if only for the fact that they took longer to kick in, and lasted longer on average. Just long enough to make him sit through a full, school day.

_And thus my death march begins…_

* * *

|Hedonism|

* * *

"And now, the national anthem."

Her lips opened, and the words to the Japanese national anthem, _Kimigayo_, flowed eloquently from her mouth. To her side, Kazama-san's chest was larger, his back straighter, his face stern and solemn as he proclaimed the words. _Kimigayo_, or in the tongue of English, "His Imperial Majesty's Reign," the song that the Japanese people among her had used since August of 1999. She did not see the beauty in it in the slightest, and she knew verbally proclaiming this would no doubt net her scandalous looks. She however appreciated that it was short, hence time could be better spent on other matters.

The anthem concluded, without fanfare, and she felt, lightly, Kazama-san's elbow nudge hers. "You need to sing with more conviction, Fukukaicho."

"Do I?"

"Have to set an example for the new students, don't we? Let's make this a nyugakushiki to remember."

The Nyugakushiki or easier put, the School Entrance Ceremony. Such an odd custom, she felt. Japan's insistence to begin the school year in April was not odd, though the justifications for it were. Some believed it was because the cherry-blossom trees would begin to bloom now in the spring, and thus, it signified the start of new beginnings, symbolized the freshness of youth and rebirth.

"Now, esteemed students, welcome to Kuoh Academy. We shall begin with a few words from Kazama Shinsuke, Kuoh Academy's Student Council President, and with him, Shitori Souna, his Vice."

The applause was polite, curt. The first-year students were wide-eyed, dreamy. She could see it on their expressions, read it from the desires tattooed unto their sleeves. Some of them, like a troublesome redheaded friend of hers, had consumed far too much anime and manga, and believed their high school lives would progress with day-after-day laughter and hijinks, rife with obscenity in the hallways and Cupid himself as the hall monitor, firing his arrows like a semi-automatic rifle to grant Disney-like instances of love and Shakespearean-worthy moments of drama.

"Welcome one, welcome all –"

Kazama's speech was nothing particularly extraordinary, but it was a given, as he was nothing particularly extraordinary. The aura about him was friendly, and he attempted too hard to please people. Taking the role of an elder-brother figure, constantly disregarding and invading the personal spaces of people and devoid of tact in the finer nuances of social interaction, he had enough charisma to be an amicable friend, but lacked the spine and harsh decisiveness it took to be a leader. Frankly, it was a miracle he was the president at all. Of course, as miracles existed, so did the inciters of miracles exist, and she knew better than most that the performer of this miracle was his father's six-figure donation to Kuoh Academy's infrastructure.

"And of course, this institution was founded by the…"

It mattered little to her. In about a year's time, the third year would graduate, and she would take up her rightful place as Kuoh Academy's Student Council President. She was already behind in gathering a suitable team of her own. She knew this was because she had insisted on gathering them herself. Her sister had offered, time and again, to provide her with gifts in the same manner that her redheaded counterpart received from her own older sibling. She refused, time and again, because she would not ride on the coattails of others when it came to accomplishing her goals.

"Thank you, and I wish you all have a pleasant, educative three years at Kuoh Academy."

The polite applause came at the end of his speech. He swaggered, back over to her, head held high. "How did I do?"

"It was a somewhat decent speech."

"That's cold Fukukaicho," Kazama said. "What was your favorite part?"

"The conclusion."

"So cold Fukukaicho, so cold."

"And now," The Principal announced, "Some words from the First Year Representative. A truly remarkable student who awed the faculty with his entrance essay, and attained the highest marks in the entrance exams since Kuoh Academy's founding."

Her brow rose, if only slightly at that announcement. _The highest?_

"Oh, hear that?" Kazama said, whistling softly. "You were the representative for your year, last year weren't you?"

"I was."

"The Principal said the newbie got the highest marks ever. Wouldn't that mean he'd have had to score higher than you?"

She did not answer. The whispers of the crowd were louder. A boy emerged from the gathered masses, his uniform neatly ironed, tie properly knotted, brown hair smooth and gelled backwards, with a pair of half-lidded eyes that scanned through the room with a surprising amount of disinterest.

With a paradoxical blend of lethargy and vigor, the boy stood in front of the podium, idly tapping the microphone with his index finger, once, and twice. He waited, patiently, for the mutterings and whispers to come to halt, before leaning forward into the microphone.

"My name is Hyoudou Issei." He said, and paused. The pause was just the perfect length for his name to sink in, never a second longer or shorter than it needed to be.

"When I was younger, I met an old man at Hirohito Park who was drunk, and before the police arrived to toss him away, we had a conversation. He asked me what the purpose of life was. I told him I did not know. Wiping his chin of alcohol, he barked a laugh and told me, 'it's pleasure.'"

The gathered crowd muttered, and the Principal was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"At the time, I thought the old man was a ridiculous old fool not worth listening to. Then, slowly, I began to think. To question. I found it odd. Our parents strive hard at work to send us to good schools. We strive hard in good schools to get access to good universities. We strive hard in good universities to get access to good jobs. We strive hard in good jobs to get promoted to better jobs, and strive hard in better jobs to get the best jobs. Why?"

The gathered auditorium was silent. Softly, she whispered underneath her breath. "Money."

"Exactly, Fukukaicho."

The whole auditorium's gaze was on her, and she froze. _Had I been that loud?_

"Money. Purchasing power."

Hyoudou pointed to a random student. "You, if you had ten million yen right now, what would you spend it on?"

The boy in question went wide-eyed. Slowly, he scratched his chin, "Um… I would… buy a large house?"

"Why?"

"Cause… well, my current house is pretty small, and I have six siblings, so I've always wanted a large place, with enough room for everyone."

Hyoudou smiled.

"And would this make you happy?"

"Very!"

Hyoudou nodded. "And you?" he pointed to a girl. "What would you do with ten million?"

"I'd send my parents on a vacation!"

"And would that make you happy?"

"As long as my parents are happy, I'm happy."

The gathered students began to get excited. She rose her eyebrow as she noticed the students eagerly talk and chat amongst themselves, each one openly and wistfully declaring what they would do with ten million yen. More than that, she noticed how the air of the room changed. The stiff, constrained air of a formal event was replaced with the open and inquisitive air of a classroom or a mixer, where ideas and conversations flowed without difficulty. The ice was broken on a scale never before seen, and she found herself awed by it.

"I've always wanted to get my dad a car!"

"I would buy a jacuzzi!"

"I'd donate to the orphanage and build a pet shelter!"

"As you can see," Hyoudou's voice cut across the students. "We desire money to fulfill ambitions or dreams, to acquire material wealth or prosperity. We all have different ideas of what we want to use money for, but there is all one thing in common –"

He extended his hand wide. "We will spend it on whatever makes us happy."

The auditorium silent. She found herself, like the rest of the students, hanging on to Hyoudou Issei's every word.

"So, all of us here, are in school because we are all, equally, chasing after our happiness. And in these three years to come, I hope that we can all stretch forward, and grasp it, _together_."

Hyoudou took a step back from the podium and bowed.

"Let the chase begin."

* * *

[**Hedonism]**

* * *

They were clapping. They were clapping. The fuckers were clapping. They sat down and listened to the shit he spewed and they were clapping. Lapping it all up. Lapping it all up. Lapping it all up.

He was not sure what he said. He could not remember what he said. The thing about being high was that one tended to possess a one-track mind. One's mind was always moving forward. Maintaining two thoughts at the same time was impossible. So forward. And forward. And forward.

He was giggling inside. He was giggling inside. Giggling from their faces. From their excitement. This was not the sweet nectar of schadenfreude. This was not the bittersweet flavor of sadism. This was not the sour tang of masochism. This was a pleasure that was unknown to him. The pleasure of standing in front of an entire auditorium of students, high as fuck, and spewing whatever nonsense that first came to his mind, and then watching them clap. Clap. Clapping their fucking hands.

He compared the flavor of pleasure to being near to that of voyeurism. Reverse-voyeurism. The danger, and risks of getting caught, of being called out on his bullshit, completely and utterly made the pleasure of getting away with it all so much sweeter.

The principal shook his hand. He said some words. Some words? Some words. Something about congratulations. Something about student council. Something something something. Issei didn't care. Issei couldn't give a fuck. Nod and smile. Nod and smile. Kiss-ass. Say something cheesy. Say something over-the-top. Talk about ambitions. Humblebrag. Humblebrag again. Something. Something. Something.

Return to seat. Listen to students beside him try to talk at him with excitement. Excitement? Excitement. They're fucking excited. They're shaking his hands. Shaking his hands. Nod and smile. Nod and smile. Give reassuring words. Give fortune-cookie advice. Tell them to keep focus on the rest of the program. Be good. Be a good diligent student.

Program is over.

Program is over?

Program is over.

Attend classes. Attend classes. Answer questions. Solve mathematical equations. Solve? High. Too high. Questions are easy. Too easy. Use advanced formula. Shit. Formula too advanced. Teacher staring. Classmates staring. Fuck. Messing up.

Attend classes. Attend classes. Answer questions. Respond with English. Respond with perfect English. Use correct English idioms. Not once over a blue moon. Once in a blue moon. Once in a blue moon. Call teacher an erudite. Erudite. Sarcasm. Sarcasm goes over teacher's head. Teacher doesn't know meaning. Teacher staring. Classmates staring. Fuck. Still messing up.

Attend classes. Attend classes. Answer questions. Memorize physics formula. Correct teacher's attribution of discovery to Nikolai Tesla. Argue with teacher. Argue with teacher some more. Argue with teacher till end of class. Teacher checks internet. Teacher is wrong. Teacher staring. Classmates staring. Don't give a fuck about messing up.

Lunch time.

Lunch time's here.

Time to eat more brownies.

* * *

|**Hedonism|**

* * *

Hours after the Entrance Ceremony concluded, Kuoh Academy was abuzz. The first-year students could be seen in corridors, eagerly discussing their dreams for the future, and their wistfulness of accomplishing them.

"You wanna be a doctor? I wanna be a surgeon! Let's become rivals!" she heard one boy exclaim.

"This isn't an anime dude."

"Come on, afraid I'll win?"

"Ah, you know what – screw it, I'm game. Alright Mr. Surgeon, how good are you at biology?"

Marching through the hallways, her gaze idly spun to a group of first year girls, with another one of their number approaching them.

"Hey, is this were the girls interested in modelling are?"

"You've got it! We were just talking about which Designer bags are in this Spring –"

Forward still, there was a commotion as three boys stood facing against each other, in a manner reminiscent of a particular popular card-trading game.

"Hmph! You claim you wanna be an Attorney? Tell me what you know about the Penal Code!"

"You underestimate me, I've played all the Phoenix Wright games! I'm gonna school you!"

Organized chaos was the only term she could use to describe the current happenings of the school. Individuals with similar dreams and interests found each other with ease, gravitating to themselves and forming cliques based on shared future goals. Individuals whose goals were more empathetic found themselves finding those who could sympathize and relate.

The words of one person had broken the previously established social hierarchy of Kuoh Academy. The second years and third-years had cliques organized by the atypical nature of wealth, social-class, prestige, athleticism, and attractiveness. The wealthy were friends with the influential and the attractive, and the athletic were often friends with them by association, and thus, those who were neither good-looking, attractive, nor influential found themselves at the bottom of the barrel.

Due to Hyoudou, the first-years had not yet possessed the time to observe their seniors and follow that hierarchy. The social hierarchy was buried and burnt, as the attractive and the unattractive, the wealthy and the less-fortunate, all mingled together.

Where she a naïve egalitarian, she would have found herself pleased by the turn of events. The unity of an entire year of the student body would be more troubling than would be worth. Humans in particular could do great and dangerous things when properly unified, and there was a reason why even _he_ had seen it wise to ensure the fall of Babel's tower.

However, there was a lot of speculative buzz going on about Hyoudou Issei, much more so than there was about her and her friend when they first came in. She was curious, as to what the principal and other members of staff had to say about the matter.

Making her way to the principal's office, she did not expect to find said man and staff in the midst of a meeting, nor did she expect to see the conclusion of such meeting.

"All in favor?"

All hands went up.

"All opposed?"

No hands went up.

"Very well. It's official. Hyoudou Issei will take the test, and should he pass, he will be moved up by a year."

It was rare for any sort of news or announcement to surprise her. So much so that she stayed in place after the teachers left, idly listening to their conversations about how the boy upstaged them in front of the new students, and did so while apparently looking half-asleep.

"You're moving Hyoudou Issei up a year?"

The principal laughed and then nodded. "The teachers all decided that it was for the best. His knowledge in Mathematics, English and Physics is already estimated to be at the university level. Should he pass the test – then we see no reason why we should let him stay in a place where he'll fail to receive adequate mental stimulation."

"I don't recall any of this being on offer when I was in my first year."

The principal cleared his throat. "Well, Shitori-san, you are certainly one of our smartest students and we are proud to have you at Kuoh Academy… but Hyoudou Issei…" The principal's eyes gleamed. "He makes you look mediocre by comparison."

"Is that a challenge, principal?"

The man in question gave a faux grandfatherly laugh.

"I suppose if Hyoudou aces his test, he'll become your classmate. I wonder who among the two of you will be the one with the highest mock entrance exams. Perhaps, one of you could even get the highest scores in Japan? I'd personally prefer it to be Hyoudou, as he is younger and male after all."

There was little doubt in her mind.

"We'll see."

The Principal of Kuoh Academy wanted to wage a common human boy against her? To pit someone with no reputable name or background against her as an intellectual rival?

"We'll see just what this Hyoudou Issei is capable of."


End file.
